Margaret's Sacrifice

The clock struck two and Margaret stirred and rose from the bed. Naked, she walked to the mirror and looked at herself dispassionately. A slender body, nice breasts, long brown hair, but she was more interested in looking at her freshly waxed pussy. Very nice, not what she was used to, and so she ran her hand between her legs to feel it. The feel of her smooth lips was like nothing she'd ever felt, and she wanted to do more, but realized that she had an appointment that she was expected to keep, so after one last look, she turned and walked out the door of the bedroom. The big house was very quiet, the servants having been sent away for the rest of the week. No radio, no television, just the sound of the insects and birds, and the ticking of the big clock in the hall downstairs. She walked along the carpeted hallway, feeling very odd being naked there, and just a little fluttery in the stomach, knowing what was to come. The hall was cool, and a little dark. She went down the stairs, pausing at the turn of the landing to look in the mirror there. This time she concentrated more on her hair than anything else, looking at the length and thickness of it and feeling how it tickled her nipples where it hung over her shoulders to the front.

Once down the stairs, she continued down the lower hall, the polished wood a contrast on the soles of her feet after the carpet upstairs. She passed the library, looking in briefly and wondering what it would feel like to sit naked in one of the big leather chairs, but she went on, past the formal dining room. She could already see the big kitchen at the back of the house, with its stone floor and wooden table, and she could see through it too, to the brick courtyard beyond.

As Margaret walked through the door to the outside, her eyes adjusted to the dazzle of the light, and she saw William waiting for her. Master William, as she was learning to call him, waiting patiently, wearing his customary khaki chinos and blue oxford cloth shirt, his blond hair falling in a floppy bang over his eyes. His sleeves were rolled back, also customary, and she saw the sun glint off the blond hairs of his forearms.

When she was in front of him, she inclined her head slightly and said, "Master William."

He looked her up and down, looking especially at her pussy. "You were waxed," he observed, "as I commanded that you be."

"Yes, Master William," answered Margaret.

"And was it painful?"

"It was quite painful," she said, "But it was your will, so it was worth it."

He nodded, pleased, and passed his hand briefly between her legs to check that a good job had been done. Smooth and hairless, and soft. Very nice.

"Now, Margaret," he said, "Put your hands behind your back and turn around."

Margaret turned around and put her hands behind her back, realizing almost instantly her mistake. Biting her lip, she waited for what she knew would come.

"Margaret." William's voice was chiding. "I truly thought you were a smarter slave than that. It was quite an elementary command, I'm surprised that you couldn't get something so simple right." He removed something she couldn't see from the tray, sighed, and said, "I was expecting this come at the end of what we did today, but it seems to be necessary now. Lean over the chair. You may support yourself with your hands."

Margaret did as she was told; leaning over the chair left, of course, her round, ripe ass exposed. She could see now, from the corner of her eye, what William held. It was what she was expecting, a crop. She braced herself, and after what seemed an eternity, they came--six sharp strikes, three on each side. She made no noise and barely flinched, as she had been taught. "Straighten up," William told her.

As she did so, Margaret, emboldened, ventured to speak. "Master William," she said softly, "May I ask for more, on my back this time?"

William was pleased when she asks for more blows, so he said, "Why, yes, dear slave, you may. Today is quite an occasion, I think we could mark it..." lingering on the mark.

He tossed her hair to the front, so that her back was exposed, and after another short pause, repeated the process--three on a side, leaving sharp welts against her white skin. "Face me," he said, and when she has complied, said, "Shall we try it again? Put your hands behind your back and turn around."

This time Margaret got the order right, and William removed one more of the items from the table: a set of handcuffs. He snapped them around her wrists, and stepped back to look at her. Naked in the hot sun, hands cuffed behind her back, pubic hair waxed away to leave her smooth...yes, she was on the way to being as he would like her. The next set of implements were removed from the table, these being a set of screw-on nipple clamps.

William took Margaret's left nipple between his fingers and twisted ungently until it stiffened. Then he took one of the clamps and began to screw it fast, turning until he saw Margaret wince. "Does that hurt?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, softly, and so he tightened it a quarter turn beyond the point of pain. He repeated the process with her right nipple. He saw that her breath was fast and ragged, probably with nerves, poor girl. Well, what was she so worried about, he was doing all the work. He was quite aroused by the sight of her, but was determined to continue until the day's objective was accomplished.

"Now, Margaret, dear slave, tell me what is about to happen here."

Margaret said, in a soft voice, "You are going to shave my head."

"And once I have done that, what will have been accomplished?"

"I will be bald."

"And how long will you be bald?" asked William, as though genuinely seeking information.

"Until it pleases you, Master William, to permit me to have hair again."

"Very good, Margaret," he said, warming to his task. He believed in making slaves fully own what happened to them. "And what is the reason for my shaving your head and making you bald?"

"The reason is twofold," said Margaret, with the air of a clever child (William had insisted that she memorize the answers). "The first is to make me more desirable to you and the second is to make me less desirable to other men."

"Very good. And are there rules?"

"Yes, the rules are that unless I am given express permission, I may not cover my head with a wig or a hat. I must go about my daily activities bald. And if I am questioned about it, I must answer that you shave my head, it is to give you pleasure and that it will continue as long as it gives you pleasure." She pauses, then boldly adds something of her own to the answer. "I will say that it was done out of my love for you, to make you happy."

"Excellent, Margaret. Now, you may sit down."

Margaret sat, with his help, in the wooden chair. The wood was hot against her skin--the sensitive, newly exposed skin of her labia and the welts on her ass. The sun also made the welts on her back sting.

William brushed her hair gently, with long strokes. "You have lovely hair. It is a sacrifice." Margaret blushed with pleasure at his recognition of this. "I will cut it first with the scissors," he told her, though they had already been over this time and again. "It is more intimate when you can hear the hair being removed from your head."

Once it was brushed out and free of tangles, William picked up the sharp scissors. He started at the temple, with a sharp "Snick!" Margaret jumped slightly at that, then expected a reprimand, but William continued on. It seemed to take a long time, and as more and more of her scalp was exposed, she could feel the sun more strongly on it and on her neck, shoulders and back.

William had insisted that she agree completely to this, and she had debated it for months. It was not until one night, after a vigorous session with her tied to the bed and William pleasuring her and dominating her at once, that she made up her mind. While she was still bound, he remarked casually that of course it was up to her, but if she could not bring herself to let him do it, he might have to add a girl to the mix who would. The fear of losing William was stronger than any attachment to her hair, and so the next day, kneeling naked before him, she told him that he could shave her head.

When he was done with the scissors, William stood back to look at his handiwork. "You look very untidy," he told her. "Scissors make for a messy removal of hair. Even if we had not agreed, there would be nothing for it but to shave you, if only to make you presentable again." He took a hand mirror from the table and held so she could see. She was both fascinated and repelled--what was left of her hair was in messy tufts, and she looked ravaged and very vulnerable. After she was done looking, he reached down and tightened the nipple clamps another quarter turn.

"The clippers next," he told her. "Not strictly necessary, but I think you might enjoy it." To her surprise, she did. The vibrations were soothing somehow, as they glided across her scalp. Soothing and exciting at once, though she was already so excited, she was not sure the clippers were adding to it.

After the clippering, which was leisurely and thorough, William inflicted more pain on her nipples with another quarter turn. Then, while she was still catching her breath from that, he showed her the mirror again. This time she was more pleased with what she saw. She looked...sleek.

"Now for the shave," he told her. He used an old bowl and brush with shaving soap, to make the lather and, after placing a towel around her shoulders, in case of drips, lathered her head. It felt cool and soothing, after the heat of the sun, and she enjoyed sitting there while the stubble that was all that was left of her long hair, softened.

After he had waited what he felt was long enough, William picked up the straight razor and began shaving Margaret's head in long, even strokes, very slowly, so as not to nick or mar its newly exposed surface. The strokes of the razor were Margaret's favorite part so far. She could feel her scalp being freed from the stubble and she could almost feel the path of emptiness that followed the razor. The sun beat down.

After the he was done, William told her that he was going to shave it again, to make sure it was perfectly smooth and hairless. Then he tightened the clamps again, another quarter turn, and watched as her eyes closed for a moment. Still she made no sound, his brave girl. His love for her grew at that moment, seeing her sitting there, shaved and bound, with clamps on the tender tips of her breasts, all for him. His cock got even harder than it was--he had done most of the work with a ragingly strong erection--but he wanted to delay pleasure until the job was truly done.

The second shave was as slow as the first, and although it had not seemed possible, left Margaret's head even smoother than before. She felt hypnotized by the swoop of the razor, and the sun...it helped her not to want to wriggle in her seat, which would have been dangerous. So she sat, feeling the last vestiges of hair being removed, and thought, "I'm smoooooth now, I'm smooooooth...." and the thought made her long to be able to touch herself.

She longed to rub her hands over her head, she longed to feel her smooth pussy lips again, but she could do none of that, handcuffed as she was. All she could do was sit in the hot sun, feel her welts sting, and wait. Wait for the will of Master William.

Finally he was done. He slid his hands over her denuded scalp, sending shivers down her back (and his too, but he gave no sign). Then he rubbed some sunscreen on it for her, saying, as he did so, "This is completely virgin skin. No burns." The cream was comforting and the sliding of his hands was extremely exciting. Margaret wished that he would release her nipples and rub cream on them, too, but to ask for that would be to get another turn, so she was silent.

After he was done, he walked around to look at her, then showed her the mirror. It took her breath away--her head was completely hairless now, shiny with the sunblock and--"You're quite beautiful," he told her, and she heard how his voice had thickened. She agreed. She was beautiful. Her green eyes shone, and her mouth looked lush. "And you're not going to have hair again for a long, long time." The words aroused her even more.

"Well, Shaved Margaret," William said then, almost playfully, "You are unbelievably hot as a shaved slut. I'd like you to suck me off now. I've waited long enough."

He undid his pants, and Margaret, long acquainted with his cock in every state, was amazed at the degree of engorgement. She leaned carefully forward, balance being a difficult thing with no hands, and he put his hands on her head to guide her to him. The sight of her bald head at his crotch almost rendered her services needless, but she was already compliantly sucking and sliding her mouth up and down, swirling with her tongue and doing the best job she knew.

It took very little time. William was surprised he lasted as long as he did. She swallowed his jizz as she always did, and as she did, he continued to rub his hands on her head. He helped her to lean back in the chair, knowing she was dying to feel it herself, but not yet ready to release her.

"Would you like some pleasure, bald slut?" he asked her. "Yes, Master William, I would please," she responded. He got on his knees and spread her legs apart, enjoying his first unobstructed view of her shaved pussy. Very nice. Very nice. He leaned forward and ran his broad tongue over first one side, then the other, and felt her shudder as he did so. Then, he moved to her clit, but not for long. He barely touched it with the pointed tip of his tongue when she suddenly began an orgasm so explosive it nearly knocked her off her chair. He let her collect herself for a moment, then helped her to her feet.

"You did very well today, Margaret. I think, though, that this is just the beginning of a journey."

"What do you mean, Master William?" she asked.

"Oh...as I was shaving, I was thinking....I think your eyebrows, that is letting me take your eyebrows, would be a very nice birthday gift for me." He let that sink in, then said, "And I think nipple rings, too,so that I will have something substantial to grab onto, what with all the hair gone. Rings below, too, I think, I do like decoration...and maybe my monogram tattooed on your mound... but those are all things to think about later. For now, let us finish this properly. Turn around."

And he picked up the crop again.